


Superpowers and Zombies, There is Definently Nothing That Can Go Wrong Here

by anxiousazure



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Language of Flowers, M/M, Might be more ships I don't know yet, Multi, My First AO3 Post, Other Groups May Be Mentioned, This Is STUPID, because i don't know a lot, correct me when im wrong, crack treated seriously?, idols have powers because i lack impulse control, irregular updates, pls be nice, so yeet i guess, starts off as just OC and Jooheon, the others come in later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 07:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousazure/pseuds/anxiousazure
Summary: Idols have had powers for as long as idols had existed. Eventually, this became normalized.What was not normalized, however, was the zombies. That one was quite unexpected.In which Lee Jooheon and Song Junho (OMC), two members of the idol group Monsta X, travel South Korea, searching for their missing partner and the rest of their group.





	Superpowers and Zombies, There is Definently Nothing That Can Go Wrong Here

He couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t been able to for a while, dark racoon eyes becoming just another piece of his new wardrobe – gone were the days of oversized sweaters and stage makeup and eye-catching fashion pieces, traded in for dark colors and thick fabrics, for goggles and dark surgical masks, for anything that could possibly prevent the contraction of the infection that had ravaged the planet.

Or at least, Junho assumed it was the planet. The infection had started somewhere in Europe, spread across Eurasia into Asia, in the course of about a month. He had heard of a break-out in North America before the news anchors and radio spokespeople abandoned their posts, leaving nothing but static and older, looping ghost stations, set automatically.

It was quiet, mostly. Sound, lights, anything that would attract human attention also seemed to draw the creatures-that-were-once-human, or worse, other survivors, and so the silence left him far too much time to think. To remember the way his throat burned as he screamed his boyfriend’s name as the crowd tore apart their fragile handhold, the desperation as his other boyfriend dragged him along, forcing him to run even as he frantically tried to spot the other’s freshly-dyed hair in the crowd. Worse, it left him to remember how peaceful things had been before.

He forced himself to stand and be productive. Do a quick perimeter check of the house he and Jooheon were sheltering in. If he started thinking about before, he was going to break down, and that was far too dangerous to even consider.

Asphodel and raspberry blossoms bloomed around his neck, rhododendron growing like a crown around his head, the flowers betraying his thoughts – remembrance, regret, sadness, a warning of danger conveying anxiety – and even if Jooheon hadn’t been an empath, he could’ve easily read the emotions through the flowers, like the other members of their group had once learned to do.

Junho wondered if they would still remember if they managed to find each other again, if they were even still alive. More rhododendron flowers bloomed around his head, but that, like all the other changes, was a given. Rhododendron, meaning be cautious, or danger, tended to grow on him when he was feeling anxious. When the world was ending, anxiety tended to run high.

As he returned to the bedroom he had left Jooheon in – no signs of immediate danger – he noticed the older had gotten up, and was fiddling with the portable radio. The radio is near-silent as it quietly hissed out static, and Jooheon carefully adjusts the antennas, both of them holding their breaths before faint lyrics – their lyrics – begin to play. Air rushes back into their lungs, and Jooheon turns to him with a weary grin.

Maybe they were chasing a ghost, an old looping set, or maybe it was a lone fan, but they were following the radio signal in desperate hope it would lead them to their group, or at least their missing boyfriend, Changkyun. It was all they had.

“You missing him, huh?” Jooheon asked, voice soft.

“… Yeah. Can’t sleep, I just… I keep seeing the moment I lost him. Hyung, if I had been just a bit stronger, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten separated. If my power wasn’t just flowers and plants, maybe I could have held onto him better. Anything. He might still be here with us. Hyung, he might be… He might be…. And it’d be my fault, Hyung!” Angry petunias bloomed around his neck, like a noose, the guilt and resentment suffocating him. Junho was shaking, and he could feel the emotions in his throat, though his eyes were dry. He should be crying, but he wasn’t. _Why couldn’t he cry? He cared, right? So he should be crying. So why wasn’t he?_

“Junnie.. Junho, baby, it’s not your fault. Whatever happens, it is not your fault. It could’ve happened to any of us, and baby, you can’t blame your powers – do you blame Changkyunnie’s tech powers for not holding onto you?”

“Wha – no, Hyung, never!”

“Then you can’t blame your flowers for it either, baby.” And as Jooheon held him closely, Junho could almost believe him, and the petunias fall from his neck, the petals withering as they hit the ground.

They separate, and Jooheon goes to shut off the radio, while Junho begins to pack their things back up. It's a familiar routine, and he can almost pretend that they’re on tour again, packing up before heading to the next stop. Changkyun’s absence, though, aches noticeably, like cat scratches. It’s not a good comparison, not nearly enough depth to it, but it’s the best his tired brain can come up with. Junho looks at Jooheon, quietly, and grows a wreath of pear blossoms and roses, carefully draping it around Jooheon’s neck.

Jooheon smiles at him, this one not tired, and whispers a, “Love you too,” as he looks at the wreath of love, gratitude, and wishes for good health. It’s a soft wreath, intimate pinks and whites and reds amidst the green leaves. The smile vanishes beneath a black mask and goggles as they try to conceal every possible point of infection, before grabbing supplies and creeping out of the motel, Jooheon wielding a machete and himself a steel baseball bat. Changkyun was – _is_ , he won’t let himself think any other way, he _can’t_ – the only one out of their trio who had decent aim.

They’ll head South. To Gwangju, first, following the radio signal, and hopefully finding a working car – and sure, the noise would draw the creatures, but the distance they could cover was worth it – then even further South, towards Jeju Island, where the government had set up a last stronghold, according to the old radio broadcasts. It was the only one that had been reported as falling victim to the infection, so they were hoping they could make it.

**Author's Note:**

> i have zero impulse control and write on random creative streaks from 11pm to around 3 am. this is the result.  
> i tossed in Junho because i am new and need a crutch because i am scared of writing real people  
> feel free to give my suggestions or critique in the comments, because while i have a general plot i still need ideas for the in-between


End file.
